Fermata
by Ashurato
Summary: AU. To gain power, Uchiha Sasuke wishes for all his weaknesses to be transferred to a cursed portrait. But how will victory taste when emotion itself is a weakness? It won't matter if the song of an incubus levels his convictions first. SasuNaru main.


Fermata

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Chapter One

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_- To influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of someone else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for.-_

- Oscar Wilde

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If a foreigner should step foot on Konoha and ask what it has to offer, its citizens would scoff at the absurdity of the question. Instead of asking what Konoha can give, the offending individual should first ascertain what they could provide Konoha instead.

It had not always been such, but if a city is to be defined by the most influential people in it, then nothing short of perfection will be acknowledged in Konoha, for no family is more prominent than that of the Uchiha clan. From information technology to landscaping, from economics to theatre, the Uchiha Conglomerate dabbled in everything.

But despite such a large company, only one man stands at the top.

Sasuke Uchiha, CEO of Uchiha Industries stared impassively at the smiling man before him. He was torn between feeling amused and irritable at this interloper calling himself 'Sai.' Normally, whoever approached him without permission would already have been fired and physically thrown out, but the sheer audacity of this particular individual piqued his interest. So here he was, the most powerful man in Konoha, being lectured by a self-proclaimed artist.

"Who sent you?" asked Sasuke. "And what are you here for?"

The smile on Sai's face disappeared and the uncanny resemblance between the two men became evident. "No one sent me, Mr. Uchiha. I came by myself in the hopes that I may be able to be of service to you."

"Is that so?" Sasuke's eyes narrowed and hardened to a point where they were little more than obsidian chips on his pale face. "If you are a spy, I could very easily kill you."

"Ah, but if I told you I am, then I would either be honest or foolish—not very good traits for a spy. In any case, I am just a painter—nothing more, nothing less. I am scouting for my next subject, for very few individuals can afford what these paintings cost." Sai's smile returned, unaffected by the cold demeanor of his prospective employer. "For they can give you all the power in the world should you wish for it."

"And why should you think that I would have any interest in what you have to offer?" Sasuke glared at the other as if daring him to give an acceptable answer to someone who is never satisfied. "What makes your work so special that you deem it acceptable to me?"

Silence stretched between them, hanging heavy and oppressive in the atmosphere. It was a quiet war that was broken by the sharp sound of laughter, light yet sinister in its undertone. "Because not even your brother could afford the price. He has a wish not even I can grant."

Sasuke slammed his fist against the top of his desk, cracks forming along the formerly pristine surface at the mention of Itachi. Perfect Itachi. Flawless Itachi who killed their parents and abandoned the family. All for what? His hedonistic tendencies and the call of a siren that will never answer him back. But Itachi is a genius for a reason—resourceful, powerful and beautiful. He is not a man to cross and not a man who could easily be denied. But Sai apparently has, and Sasuke had no choice but to acknowledge that ability.

Sasuke stood up and looked out the window at the city sprawling with debauchery and veiled lies. Itachi was somewhere among them and Sasuke lived for nothing else other than the pursuit. "What can you give me?"

Empty eyes studied the powerful man before them, calculating. "A portrait, your portrait. I will name my price once it is completed and not before. How you choose to view the image within is up to you. It will grant you one wish, but think carefully."

"A portrait? What can a portrait do for me? As a testament of strength I could have had when all I can feel is my irrelevance? My deficiencies when compared to Itachi's precision?" Smirking, Sasuke turned to face the painter, the scarlet setting sun casting shadows upon his face like blood. Although a skeptic at heart, Sasuke's black eyes appeared crimson in anticipation. After all, attaining something Itachi could not is a victory in itself. "I have but one wish—to gain power. In order to attain it, I have no need for weakness. If only all weakness of mind and spirit could be transferred from my body to that picture. That is all I desire to exact my revenge."

The smile on Sai's face grew wide as he unfurled a scroll and raised his paintbrush. "If that is what you wish, then a demon you shall become."

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_Inside the labyrinth walls, there lies a tiny child who sleeps alone_

_And as the daylight falls, the wind becomes so wild across the stone_

_For I have made her prison be, her every step away from me_

_And this child I would destroy, if you try to set her free_

Blue eyes shone bright with emotion as the singer extended a hand toward his enraptured audience. The song was quiet and his voice was crystalline, but the malice latent in the lyrics chilled his listeners to their very core. His golden hair glinted in the dim light like a seraph, but his voice is that of an incubus, seductive and unreal.

He finished the song in the same hypnotizing tone, relishing the effect he had over the congregation. It was only onstage that he could feel such power, for it provided him with the control that eluded him in his normal existence. Under the misty lights, he could be anyone—be it a god or a devil—and people would listen with rapt attention. Singing gave him a purpose when living could no longer sustain him.

He slowly let the last haunting fermata die as he searched his audience for the one who made his life worthwhile, but as always, no one was there. Despite the standing ovation and the roaring crowd, this was but a transient moment in time.

Naruto descended from the stage and sprinted to his destination with hopeful eyes, grinning excitedly as he reached his dressing room. He placed a hand on the doorknob but froze when he heard two distinct voices talking frantically inside. He recognized one of them to be Iruka, his guardian, but the other voice was less familiar. His smile disappeared and he pressed an ear against the door to hear more clearly.

"—with a voice like that, I often wonder why he is still here. All I do is hold him back."

"That is a ridiculous idea, Iruka. If you are that worried, then why haven't you spoken to him about it? He's grown up enough to make his own decisions. What if what you want for him is different from what he really wants?"

"I just… sometimes feel like this place, this life, isn't where he belongs…"

"Iruka…"

Naruto pushed back from the door, eyes wide open but unseeing. He has never heard Iruka mention anything of the sort to him. Has he become a liability? He owed everything to Iruka and whatever the man said, Naruto would faithfully follow. This was simply another act and he was an actor, molded to fit the part, not have the part fit him. Naruto steeled himself and plastered a wide grin on his face—doing otherwise would just shatter what convictions he had left. He would do anything for Iruka, even if it meant give the best performance of his life.

No one would ever know it was an act. No one would ever know how badly his heart was breaking.

Iruka and Kakashi's conversation was interrupted when Naruto burst into the door, cheerful from the rush of the stage with his arms full of flowers. Not even the stage makeup could completely hide the crimson staining his cheeks from his exhilarating performance.

Kakashi lowered the rather thick script he was reading and clapped his hands, smiling behind the mask he wore. He glanced at the quiet Iruka, perturbed by the man's silence, and nudged him out of his stupor. Thankfully, Naruto appeared to be too caught up in adrenaline to notice his guardian's uncharacteristic lack of reply.

"Kakashi! What brings you here? Iruka didn't tell me that you would be here today," said Naruto as he left the flowers on his dresser and picked up a jar of cream and a soft piece of cloth.

"Oh, I was just in town and wanted to check up on the two of you," Kakashi lied smoothly before lifting the script to resume his reading. "I also have a prospective job for you tomorrow if you want to consider it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Naruto noticed the almost imperceptible tensing of the silent Iruka's shoulders. But he chose not to draw attention to it. "A job? But Kakashi, I'm working tomorrow night! I can only go if Iruka lets me, you know that as well as I do."

"Don't worry about it, Naruto!" Iruka replied hurriedly, finally breaking his silence. "Haku volunteered for the theatre tomorrow. This could be good experience for you. I know that standing on the same stage night after night can be boring."

Since Iruka was actively averting his eyes, he missed the slightly guarded look on the blond's face. On the other hand, Kakashi caught a glimpse of the gaze, atypical to the cheerful blond, before it was smoothed out by a smile like it was never there.

Naruto threw himself at Iruka, hugging the life out of the man in his excitement. He then turned to Kakashi and demanded the details of the job. "What do I have to do?"

Kakashi laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Er… not too much. You just have to entertain some people from the company I work for at a party tomorrow."

"The company you work for?" asked Naruto. "You never even told me where you work, Kakashi! You haven't even mentioned what you do."

For a second, the silver-haired man froze and exchanged a wary glance with Iruka. Defeated, Kakashi sighed and beckoned Naruto closer to whisper in his ear. "Don't tell Iruka, but… I'm a ninja."

A second later, he found himself lying flat on his back on the floor, pinned by Naruto's foot on his chest. A vulpine grin appeared on Naruto's face as he held a vase filled with water and flowers over Kakashi's unprotected groin. "Liar!"

The older man suppressed a whimper as Naruto's grip on the vase loosened fractionally. "Stop! Stop! Stop! I'll tell you! I'll tell you!"

Used to Naruto's cheerful personality and volatile temper, Iruka just smiled in sympathy. He knew exactly what Kakashi did and whom he worked for, which was why he had forbidden the man from telling Naruto. But now, it would be better for Naruto to know.

Kakashi coughed when he stood up, air rushing back into his lungs as the pressure was relieved. "I work in the aesthetics department of Uchiha Industries. I find up and coming artists and introduce them to the company in the hopes of nurturing their abilities."

"You're a head hunter," Iruka quipped dryly.

Kakashi hid his face behind the script. "I prefer the term 'talent agent.'"

Naruto froze at the name 'Uchiha.' It brought forth memories he would prefer never to surface again. But as he looked at Iruka, the definitive rejection died on the tip of his tongue. "Uchiha… Itachi?"

The tremulous tone of Naruto's voice surprised Kakashi. He was not expecting for the Uchiha name to be a sensitive subject with Naruto. After all, everyone in Konoha is familiar with the infamous clan. "I was not aware that you are acquainted with him. But no, the CEO of Uchiha Industries is his younger brother, Sasuke. Itachi has not been seen in years and there is bad blood between the two brothers."

"No, he isn't an acquaintance," smiled Naruto. "I just heard some people in the audience speaking of him once and the name Uchiha reminded me of it." Naruto's words were steady and his demeanor was light, but all he could see in his mind were piercing crimson eyes and long hair as black as coal. Naruto could still hear a warm voice whispering sweet lies into his ear, fascinating and deceptively sincere.

Itachi, the profligate who promised him the world.

Itachi, the prideful charmer in pursuit of beauty.

Itachi, the man whose heart he had torn apart.

Beauty is worthy only when pure, for even the lightest touch of pride creates an ugliness beyond repair.

Naruto smiled in fond remembrance as he rubbed cold cream on his face, wiping away the makeup to reveal six scars upon his cheeks. In his otherwise unblemished face, they exist as six harsh reminders that nothing can ever be perfect.

Iruka studied the pensive Naruto for a while before getting up and grasping the boy's shoulders. He looked Naruto straight in the eyes but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed in relief before guilt started to gnaw at him. "Naruto, you don't have to go if you don't want to. It may still be too early for jobs like this and I don't want you to feel forced."

_Liar_, thought Naruto as he schooled his face to register nothing but innocent anticipation. "Don't worry so much, Iruka. I'll be fine!"

Iruka still remained unconvinced, but the situation was no longer in his hands. Kakashi threw an arm around both their shoulders. "Wonderful!" said Kakashi. "I will come to pick you up tomorrow afternoon, Naruto. I will leave further instructions with Iruka."

Naruto nodded before glancing at the clock. Noticing the time, he swore under his breath and ran out of the dressing room as if the hounds of hell were after him. He has stated before that good manners were not necessary in the familiar company of Iruka and Kakashi, despite the former's rejections of that particular claim.

Once the blond was gone, Kakashi turned his attention towards Iruka once again, all humor draining from his face. There was still something bothering the brunette and Iruka only gave that certain expression when he was hiding something. "Iruka, this isn't like you. I would have thought you would be fighting tooth and nail to keep Naruto with you, not drive him away."

"If you want a serious conversation, put down that pornography book you are hiding behind that script," glared Iruka as he grabbed the script to reveal an orange novel with a rather risqué cover.

The silver haired man had the grace to blush before he grew serious again. "Don't change the subject, Iruka."

Iruka glared at Kakashi, scrutinizing the man who had never failed him the past. If he could trust anyone, it was Kakashi, for the man would be able to protect what is most precious to him. Iruka turned around trudged towards a wall covered by posters at the far end of the room. He pursed his lips together tightly, as if not wanting the words to escape. "Promise me one thing, Kakashi."

This was the first time Kakashi had ever heard such a helpless tone in Iruka's voice and it disturbed him greatly. "Anything."

"Don't tell Naruto." Iruka then pushed the wall aside, revealing a secret compartment covered by a hanging black curtain.

The book dropped from Kakashi's hand with a dull thump, forgotten. He stood frozen in place as Iruka drew back the curtain. "Iruka… that is…"

Iruka gripped the curtain with trembling fingers. "A curse. It was not always like this, but it has changed, like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled. Take him away from here, Kakashi. Save my Naruto."

Kakashi nodded, but his throat felt dry and constricted by the horrible sight.

Even the strongest of men would cower in fear, for something so pure could also be beautifully malevolent.

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Humans have demons within themselves, feeding upon sins. What others see is a mere image projected by external forces and prior influence. The demon inside is one's true nature—desperate to get out and wreak havoc upon its prison.

"_I do not want payment now, for the picture remains unfinished. But trust that I will return to finish it one day. For now, do as you wish as one without fear. Live out your life and burn in the flames of your own creation… then maybe you will have enough to pay the price I ask for."_

Sasuke stared at the portrait hanging in his office with a smirk on his face. It was a perfect image of him, self-righteous and comfortable in his own strength, untouchable and invincible. From the time the portrait was hung, three major sectors of the Sound Conglomerate had been dissolved, its members voluntarily withdrawing or forcibly dispatched. Sasuke moved them around like chess pieces, recently sacrificing even his own pawns in almost suicidal business tactics that ended with him as the victor. Even the crushing and absorption of smaller companies who could do little to defend themselves appear heartless, but the stoic Uchiha would spare no remorse to attain what he desires.

Although he had been skeptical, the portrait painted by Sai appeared to give him power. Sasuke was able to work without sleep, sustenance or sympathy, spurring rumors of his inhumanity. Yet he did little to curb them, especially since he knew the truth.

After a while, he turned around and exited his office. A limo waited outside to take him to a benefit his company was having for his birthday. Although it was supposed to be a secret, there was little Sasuke did not know about own company. He scowled at what he considered a waste of time, but a show of power is still a show of power.

_Everything everyone does is for a reason for people are all egoists at heart_, thought Sasuke with a bitter smile. He stepped out the limo and ascended the stairs of the Uchiha manor. _Nothing that looks innocent could possibly be genuine._

The raven-haired man opened the door, but despite the crowd of guests and affiliates waiting to greet him inside, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to a single figure on the stage. As if the figure sensed the attention upon him, he shifted his gaze, locking impossibly blue eyes with black. For the first time in years, a spark of something akin to fear crossed Sasuke's icy demeanor.

"Uzumaki Naruto…"

In the distance, three black marks stained porcelain skin in an otherwise flawless painting.

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End Chapter One

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Author Notes:

I wanted to try something different in terms of the sections I usually write fanfiction in. The inspiration for this story is Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. For those who don't know, it is a story of a young man who becomes obsessed with hedonism and preserving his beauty. He wishes for a portrait to grow old instead of him, but even as his wish is granted, nothing could stop his descent into debauchery.

The lyrics in this story are all going to be derived from songs by Vienna Teng, one of my favorite singers. The particular one in this chapter is from the song "My Medea." I will not be writing down whole songs because I believe that sometimes a few lines is all that is needed to invoke a feeling.

Yes, this is going to be a Sasunaru fanfiction (and others), so please don't say I did not warn you. I believe that criticizing a story just by the nature of its basic elements is ridiculous. It's like saying an apple is bad because it's red if the viewer does not like that particular color. Don't like red apples? Then don't eat them. Don't like yaoi? Then don't read them. Simple enough.


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